


Sharper Than a Shark's Teeth

by misura



Category: Gentleman Bastard Sequence - Scott Lynch
Genre: M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Locke and Jean deal with getting dosed with sex pollen in a mature, reasonable and rational manner.
Relationships: Locke Lamora/Jean Tannen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Sharper Than a Shark's Teeth

"An even trade," said Locke. "You get me off, I get you off - no deeper feelings involved other than, of course, our friendship - "

" - which, gods know, has weathered greater dangers than a simple case of an alchemist's potion gone astray," Jean put in. "You've locked the door?"

Locke frowned, momentarily distracted. "You think we should barricade it?"

Jean sighed. His clothes were already laying on a neatly folded pile, whereas Locke's own were still where part of him felt they belonged, which was to say: on his body.

"I think you're overthinking the situation. Accidents happen. Not everything that goes wrong is part of a bigger plan. I mean, realistically speaking, who would have anything to gain by forcing us to leave the premises for, what, an hour? Two?"

"They could have assumed that we'd opt for a different solution."

Jean shrugged. "All for the better. _If_ this was a matter of intent rather than accident."

"This time, it was an aphrodisiac. What if next time, it's something less innocent? Even if we assume for the moment that you're right and I'm wrong - "

" - a not entirely rare occurrence - "

" - the odds of which are so vanishingly small they may as well be non-existent, we're still left at the mercy of a group of people so hopelessly inept at poisoning each other that our safest course of action would probably be to forego all food and drink altogether. Which, realistically speaking, means we'll have two days at most to pull off a plan that's supposed to take three months."

"Fine. So we'll re-evaluate the situation tomorrow morning, when we're both clear-headed."

Locke glared. "My head's perfectly clear right now."

"I might have found that statement more convincing if you'd been looking at my face when you made it. Look, if you've changed your mind, it's not too late yet to make some discrete inquiries of our innkeeper. He'll no doubt charge us an exorbitant sum for a second room, but if we manage to cling to our wits for another five minutes, I'm sure we'll be able to talk him down to something merely obscenely expensive."

Locke forced himself to look up. By most standards, Jean would no more be considered attractive than Locke himself, if for different reasons. "We've been poisoned by an unknown party and you want us to trust some perfect strangers? I'd say that definitely proves at least one of us isn't capable of rational thought anymore."

"To be fair, I don't think you had much talent in that area to start with. Irrational thought, bordering on the insane - absolutely. It's practically your trademark."

"I prefer to think of it as genius," Locke said. "Tragically underappreciated brilliance."

"Well, here's your chance to feel appreciated for once. Why don't you start by taking off your clothes?"

"I - this isn't how I pictured this happening," said Locke.

Jean mercifully stayed silent for a full ten seconds, allowing Locke to fully appreciate the implications of what he'd just admitted to.

"Locke. I'm sorry if saying this hurts your feelings - " Locke winced. " - but you are really not a genius."

"To be perfectly honest, I don't feel like much of one this very moment."

Jean scowled. "That's because, as I told you repeatedly, you're suffering from the effects of some alchemist's brew that renders its victims unable to think straight."

"Jean, I - "

"This isn't something you can just pretend isn't happening. You can't run a game on something like this - it's like trying to run a game on a stab wound. For once in your life, be realistic. Or, if that's asking the impossible, shut up and do what I tell you to do."

"Right," said Locke. "I can do that."

Jean's expression suggested he entertained considerable doubts.

"I can," Locke insisted, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt by way of emphasis. "Only give me a few moments to - "

Jean kissed him. It felt strange and wonderful, too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

"Sorry." Up close, Jean's eyes seemed very bright. Possibly an effect of whatever it was they'd been dosed with. Locke was sure that he'd have noticed something before if they'd always looked that way. "I - sorry."

"Don't." Locke's lips were still tingling. Jean looked - _Locke, you idiot_. "I meant, don't apologize. Not - " Locke gestured vaguely. "Both of us acting under the influence of the local welcome drink, remember? So let's - I mean - we can talk about this tomorrow. Or not. But I'm voting tomorrow, because, well, we're friends and I think that we should talk about this. Not that I'm sure that I'll want to, or that you'll want to, but - "

Jean groaned. "Don't you ever shut up?"

"Well, whatever it is we've been dosed with probably lowers inhibitions," said Locke. "So, as you just pointed out, it's really not my fault."

"I don't think that's what I said."

"It's simply that, apparently, I really want to talk - "

" - babble - "

" - whereas you really want to uh, not talk, which is interesting and maybe also a little ironic, considering. On the other hand, I suppose it would be better to act now that we are both still more or less in control of our actions. Has anyone ever told you that you kiss terribly?"

"For both our sakes, I'm going to pretend you forgot a 'well' at the end of that question."

Locke's fingers seemed to have forgotten how buttons worked, which was bothersome. True, there was a no doubt excellent tailor located not two houses down from the inn, and if Locke were to visit there tomorrow, torn shirt and all, it might very well serve to plant the first of several stories about the two strangers from Tal Verrar so recently arrived to town.

To drive home the point, they'd ensure Jean would be seen lurking around in the alchemists' district for the next few days, and then -

"Locke? Are you all right?"

"I'm thinking," said Locke. "If we play it right, all of this might work out beautifully."

"That's what you always say."

"You know, Jean, any time you want to shut up is fine with me. Like right now."

"Locke ... " Jean hesitated. "Are you sure about this? We could still - "

Surprisingly, being the one to initiate the kiss didn't seem to lessen its impact. Locke idly wondered if it was a side-effect of the potion. He preferred to believe that it wasn't, but of course the only way to test that theory might prove a bit difficult. _Another thing to consider more closely tomorrow._

"Sorry, I'm under the influence of an aphrodisiac so I felt compelled to kiss you instead of slapping you stupid for talking nonsense."

"Lucky for you. That other thing might have ended with one of us getting hurt, and I promise you that I wouldn't have been me."

"Of course, saying I'd slap you stupid would imply that you're not stupid to start with."

"What happened to the plan where we'd both shut up?"

"I got distracted by your pretty eyes," Locke said.

"I'm standing here completely naked and the part of my body that you notice are my eyes?"

"The part of your body I feel able to call 'pretty' without bending the truth more than I'm comfortable with are your eyes, yes."

"I wish I were able return the compliment, but alas. Bed?"

"Obviously we're going to use a bed," said Locke. He was beginning to feel a little light-headed. He wasn't sure if he should hope to pass out before things proceeded beyond kissing. It did not seem entirely fair to Jean. "What were you going to suggest we use instead? The floor? It seems clean, I'll grant you, but even so, hardly what I'd call comfortable."

"I meant to ask: yours or mine? My apologies for assuming you were still capable of thought."

"Whichever's closest works for me. My apologies for assuming you were no longer capable of fussing over things of no importance whatsoever."

"If we weren't both not quite ourselves, just for that, I'd promise you that I'm going to - "

"Well, _finally_."


End file.
